Calling All the Children Home
by cariad3
Summary: Molly Weasley reflects on her children. Post-DH.


Calling All the Children Home

*~*

"Charlie! Bill! Percy! Fred! George! Ron! Ginny! Dinner's ready!"

Molly Weasley's voice rang out over The Burrow's grounds as it had innumerable times before. She looked up at the sky, marveling at the amethyst created as day slid into night. How many times had she stood on this very porch, calling her children to a meal? Countless times, to be sure. She saw the first twinkling of stars, diamonds on the soft purple velvet, and felt at peace.

Her children came across the front lawn, bringing with them that particular energy that only her very own brood could carry. Bill, deep scars barely visible in the remaining daylight, was teasing Ginny. Ginny's cheeks were flushed from their Quidditch match on the paddock, and her hair was wild and free. Molly remembered the day Ginny was born. All the other boys had been nonplussed by the arrival of their squalling, squawking baby sister. Red hair, red face, she was just another Weasley baby to them. It was Bill alone who recognized that Ginny was something new and unique, an unknown in their family equation. It was Bill alone who took the time to gently hold her on her first morning on earth, grasping her delicately, as if she might break. Perhaps it was because he was the oldest, and she the youngest, but Ginny had grabbed Bill by the heartstrings on the day she was born, and the two of them had been especially close ever since.

Molly looked at her youngest, her only daughter, and sighed. Her baby, all grown up. Ginny was undeniably beautiful. She had left her gawkiness behind with her teenage years, and was now a lovely young lady, slender and graceful. Molly wasn't quite sure when it had happened. She felt vaguely unsettled, as if she had somehow missed something important, for the woman coming up the path was not the little girl she had coddled and cared for all these years. Molly had blinked, and Ginny was all grown up.

Charlie walked behind them, searching the skies as if expecting a dragon to come flying by at any moment. His hair was longer than Molly would have liked, but she couldn't deny that he was a handsome boy. Slightly smaller than her other boys, he made up in broad shoulders what he lacked in height. Always looking for adventure, her Charlie was fearless and brave, yet he had a seriousness about him that was all his own.

George came next, teasing Percy mercilessly. Percy's long-suffering look reminded Molly of days gone by. He had always tried so hard to carve out his own spot among the Weasley clan. Where the other boys were boisterous and fearless, Percy chose safety and sanity. Even as a small lad, he plotted out his days with precision, leaving nothing to chance. Molly rarely had to patch the knees of Percy's trousers, or perform a _Reparo_ charm on his toys. In Percy's life, there had never been much room for disorganization or chaos. Perhaps that was why he chose to leave for a while. Wrapping his role as up-and-coming ministry worker about him like a cloak, Percy had protected himself from the insane love of his family. Molly was thankful every day that he had come to his senses and realized that the Burrow, craziness and all, was where he belonged.

Without Fred, George looked a bit at loose ends, as always. Time could not heal the rift left by his death; like a particularly nasty tear in a cloak, it could be mended, but would never be the same as it used to be. Yet even from a distance, she saw the mischief in George's eyes. Molly shook her head ruefully. The two of them—and indeed, she still thought of them as a pair-- had always been her greatest challenge. Even by Weasley standards, they were completely out of control. She did not understand how their minds worked, nor did she want to. They were brilliant, those two, and yet they channeled their brilliance in ways that had made their mother cry more than once. When they were young, she used to try to force them apart, fearing that they were so wrapped up in one another that each would never become his own individual entity. Thankfully, she had given up on that when she realized that, as twins, their bond completed, not diminished, each other. And now it was just George, carrying his lost brother with him in everything he did. Molly sighed.

Last came Ron--her youngest boy, the least secure of all her progeny. He was so used to being in the shadows, that when the spotlight was on him, he was unsure what to do. She laughed to herself when she thought of all the attention that had fallen on him because he was Harry Potter's best friend. Her little Ronnie, who always made his choices not because of fame, or because of obligation, but simply because he knew it was the right thing to do. She was simply amazed at the loyalty her youngest son had shown.

Then from the shadows of the porch, came the rest of her family. Fleur, belly rounded and a blond-haired angel holding her hand, walked proudly over to Bill. Molly watched in amazement as she kissed his cheek, not even seeing the deep scars that were there. Bill kissed her cheek in return, casually resting his hand on her swollen stomach, and reached out with his other hand to gently tug his daughter's pigtail. Victoire smiled up at her papa, and slipped her wee hand into his large one.

Penelope walked quietly into the fray, knowing the Percy didn't take much to public displays of affection. One would have to look very carefully indeed to catch the look of love that passed between them, to see Percy's almost imperceptible nod and Penelope's shy half smile. No babies there, yet. Percy seemed to be approaching parenthood with the same cautiousness he approached everything else in his life, but Molly secretly thought it wouldn't be long before he and his wife made a pompous announcement at a family gathering.

Charlie continued staring at the sky, not noticing Irina walking softly towards him. She was as peaceful as her name, and Charlie's Romanian wife tempered his wildness well. Their son Anton had lagged behind, distracted by a toad he was studying carefully. Molly thanked her lucky stars that her studious grandson seemed to take after his mother, and not his headstrong father or uncles. Perhaps there would finally be one male Weasley who made it to Hogwarts without ever having a bone-setting spell performed on him.

George, who had never been able to settle down to anything for more than ten minutes at a time, had yet to settle down with a wife. He did, however, have a long-suffering, long-term girlfriend who came with him to family functions. George switched witches often, but seemed to have settled on a lovely girl named Verity, who came to work part-time in the shop. The two had been dating for quite some time, and Molly had a special admiration for anyone who could keep her George in line.

Harry and Hermione were talking quietly together as they walked towards Ron and Ginny. Hermione looked so serious, earnestly gesticulating with her hands as she made her point. Harry shook his head and laughed as he grabbed Ginny's hand. Molly had wondered how the trio would transition to a quartet, and yet it had happened almost seamlessly. Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermione had a friendship that had lasted beyond Hogwarts, beyond the War, beyond the double wedding. When Ginny and Hermione both announced that there would be babies arriving in time for Christmas, Molly had not been one bit surprised. Both of them were just beginning to show, and Ron and Harry had many amusing moments of placing bets on who would feel the baby kick first, who would go into labor first, who would give birth first. Their wives were less amused, or at least pretended not to be, but Molly knew they drew great comfort from each other as they went through this new experience together/

All in all, Molly Weasley felt blessed. She had raised six strong, fine wizards, and one independent, intelligent witch. They had grown safely past childhood, and survived Voldemort and his horrible war. She had gained four daughters-in-law, each unique and capable and lovely. The-Boy-Who-Lived was now The-Boy-Who-Lived-with-Ginny, and seemed to put all his energies into making her daughter happy. She had a grandson and a granddaughter and three more grandbabies on the day, and spent hours thinking of ways to spoil and coddle them. She had Arthur, her husband of thirty years. He was never going to be Minister of Magic, nor would he want to be, but he had slowly and patiently risen to the head of his department, and if he had not been able to provide an abundance for his family, he had at least made sure there was always enough to go around. Now, they were all grown and gone, and they had the Burrow to themselves. Sighing, Molly rang the dinner bell once more.

"Let's go, you lot! Supper's on the table!"

Molly Weasley turned and walked into her kitchen, a smile on her face and a spring in her step. All of her children were home.

*~*

_Calling All the Children Home_

_by John McCutcheon_

_Home to the table and the big black pot,_

_Everybody's got enough though we ain't got a lot._

_No one is forgotten, no one is alone,_

_And we're calling all the children home._


End file.
